by Cayla Kluver
Miranna fluffed her hair, then clasped my hand and pulled me forward. I cast Halias a grateful smile as we brushed past him, and he tilted his head in acknowledgment.
Temerson’s back was toward us as we approached, and he jumped when Miranna tapped him on the shoulder.
“P-Princess,” he stuttered, then seeing me, added, “ce—es. What are you doing here?”
Miranna smiled at his flustered reaction.
“We’re shopping.”
His face reddened at the absurdity of his question.
“Well, yes—of course, what—what else would you be doing? I only meant, that, well, why are you here, talk—talking to me?” he stammered, tripping over his tongue as he tried to clarify himself.
“Because we’re friends, aren’t we?” Miranna answered, her tone so sweet and gentle that I had to look away lest I laugh.
Temerson’s brown eyes widened and his eyebrows shot upward, indicating both his delight and astonishment at her suggestion.
“I, uh, I, um, er, I mean…all right.”
I could tell Miranna was now also trying not to laugh, as she did not want to embarrass our potential ally.
“I’m glad that’s straightened out,” she said. “I’m afraid we don’t have much time to talk, but could I ask you for a favor?”
Temerson’s head bobbed up and down vigorously.
“Yes, anything!” he said, at last delivering a straight sentence.
Miranna placed her hand upon his arm and leaned forward to whisper to him, just in case there was a chance Halias or Tadark might overhear. As she finished, he stepped back from her, cocking his head to the side. “Really?”
“Really.”
While Miranna’s request was a bit unorthodox, I was positive Temerson would undertake it, if for no other reason than the gratitude he felt toward us for never disclosing the true cause of her injury at the picnic.
“If that’s what you want,” he said in confusion.
“Yes, thank you. We would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this,” Mira stressed, slipping a small pouch of money into his hand. “The breeches are for a friend of ours, who is about your height, but very slight in build. We have to go, but if you’d bring them to the palace later today or tomorrow—”
“To the p-p-palace? Me? By myself?” Temerson was alarmed.
“You’ll be fine,” Miranna assured him. “Ask to see me—I’ll tell the guards I’m expecting you.”
Temerson nodded tentatively as he murmured, “I can do it.” Though whether he was speaking to us or himself was unclear.
However fretful he had been about completing his task, Temerson managed it in the end. Less than two hours later as I sat upon the sofa in my parlor, Tadark in an armchair across from me and a chessboard on a small table between us, Miranna rushed through the door without knocking. She held a brown parcel in her hands and was beaming. Halias entered a step behind her, plainly perplexed by her mood.
I scrambled to my feet, ignoring Tadark’s miserable moan of defeat as he realized my last move had made me the victor in the game he had been reluctant to play in the first place, and Miranna and I entered my bedroom. We perched upon my bed, and she untied the cords that crossed over each other to encircle the package from both directions. As she hastily tore the wrapping away, our eyes fell on a long-stemmed pink rose lying atop the package’s contents. Mira’s cheeks took on the hue of the rose’s petals as she carefully lifted it toward her face, breathing in its fragrance.
“I guess ‘all right’ wasn’t enough of an indicator that he wants to be your friend,” I said, knowing how much Temerson’s simple gesture would mean to my sister. It was sweet and romantic, and Miranna would be gushing about it to Semari for weeks.
I reached into the package and lifted out the remaining item—the breeches. They were made of lightweight wool, dark brown in color, and felt rough and coarse in my hands. I got to my feet and held them up to my waist; they fell almost to my ankles.
“The length is workable,” Miranna observed. “But we may have to pull in the waist somehow.” She smiled widely at me. “Well, do you want to try them on?”
I nodded eagerly, and Miranna assisted by unlacing the back of my dress. When next Narian saw me, he would have no excuse to disregard me, however lamentably he might view my kingdom’s culture.
CHAPTER 18
SELF-DEFENSE
“HERE, SEE? I HAVE THEM,” I SAID, LIFTING UP MY breeches for Narian’s inspection. “Now you have no basis upon which to object to teaching me self-defense.”
“I can object as long as you’re not wearing them,” he stated dryly.
My cheeks heated and I hoped he could not see my embarrassment.
“I’ll need to change.”
I glanced around and the heat in my cheeks deepened. We were standing in a clearing in the woods that we had reached by virtue of a fifteen-minute hike on another narrow path. We had left Miranna and Semari at the river, Halias having distracted the two of them so that we could make our departure. While I would have preferred a shorter walk, we had to be far enough from the Recorah so that neither of our sisters nor Halias might stumble upon us. The worst part of our site was that there was no place for me to change with the exception of the woods surrounding us.
Tadark, who stood not three feet from my side, absurdly close in light of the admonition I had given him on our last visit, had begun to glare at me and Narian, already not liking the way this afternoon was going. I was not enamored of the situation myself. My discomfort increased at the thought that without my sister or my personal maid, I would have to ask either Tadark or Narian to unlace the back of my gown. Opting for the lesser of the two evils, I directed my request to Narian. At his nod, I turned around and he gathered my long brown hair together, draping it over my left shoulder.
“You should put your hair up or braid it in the future,” he said as he loosened my laces. “Or better yet, cut it.”
I glanced at him, unable to determine if he was serious, then walked toward the woods in as dignified a fashion as I could muster.
“I insist that both of you turn your backs!” I called over my shoulder.
I dodged behind some trees, and after glancing toward the clearing to make sure Narian and Tadark had obeyed my wishes, removed my dress. I pulled the breeches on as fast as I could, not wanting to have an encounter with someone while only half-clad. Having brought no shirt to wear with the trousers, I tucked in my chemise. While this was somewhat bulky, it had the benefit of taking up some of the extra space in the overly large garment. Despite this, the breeches would have fallen to my ankles had it not been for Miranna’s inspired thinking in giving me some of her hair ribbons to tightly cinch the waist.
Regardless of the ease with which I could move while wearing men’s clothing, I found the breeches to be extremely uncomfortable. The rough fabric against my legs made me desperate to shed them in favor of my usual garb; further, the thought of emerging in such an outfit in front of my bodyguard and a young man I barely knew was distressing. The absence of a heavy skirt covering my legs made me feel exposed.
Knowing I was too far committed to change my mind and retain any dignity, I walked back into the clearing and over to face Narian and Tadark, who were standing side by side. Tadark shifted self-consciously, not wanting to look at me, yet unable to look elsewhere because of the utter ludicrousness of my appearance. Narian did not seem bothered in the least; it was probably stranger to him to see a woman in the garments we wore on a daily basis than it was to see me clothed as I now was.
Narian stepped forward and to my right so that he stood between Tadark and me, and I could see the distrustful eyes of my bodyguard over his shoulder. Gripping my right elbow, Narian pulled me across the front of his body so my back was to his chest. I stiffened at his proximity, for although he was only an inch taller than me, I was conscious of his lean and muscular build, and my own vulnerability.
“No need to be so tense,” he
said, near enough to whisper in my ear. I could feel his breath as it passed over my cheek, and a shiver swept through me.
He pulled my forearms up so they were in front of my chest, and I balled my fists, recognizing the fighting position he had assumed when he’d been forced to defend himself against Steldor.
“Plant your feet shoulder-width apart,” he instructed, his voice brisk. “Move your left foot forward, just a little.”
He turned my body away from him, then moved back almost on top of Tadark to examine my posture, and I released the breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding.
“This is the basic fighting stance. Hold your left arm up a little higher, and relax your muscles. The stiffer you are, the slower you’ll move. Now, the first thing you must learn is to always be aware of your surroundings. When you enter a room, you must take note of all who are present, and you must register every exit through which you could make an escape. The opportune moment for an enemy is the moment you let your guard down.”
Without warning, he twisted to seize Tadark, and with great force, pulled my bodyguard toward him so that the Elite Guard was thrust across his hip and thrown to the ground. With a grunt of pain, Tadark landed on his back at my feet, head toward Narian, his usually well-kept, sandy-brown hair in disarray.
“Any questions?” Narian asked, without extending a hand to help Tadark to his feet, as if my bodyguard were a prop to be used for demonstrations.
Tadark sat up and glared at Narian, face ablaze with furious embarrassment. I was astounded at the young man’s audacity, and couldn’t help but conclude that he had been letting my guard know who was really in control. In any case, I had to concede that he had emphatically made his point.
Narian strode toward a large tree at the edge of the clearing. He stepped behind it and reappeared a moment later with a sheathed half-sword in his hand that was similar to the long knives London had carried, only more elaborately styled.
Tadark was on his feet by the time Narian returned, ready to charge full speed at him, a battle cry upon his lips. He resisted, recognizing that the young man was not posing a threat, for which I was thankful, more for Tadark’s sake than anyone else’s. But however grateful I was for my guard’s self-restraint, I was troubled by the fact that, for the second time, Narian had acquired a weapon.
“Where did you get that?” I asked, seeing how firmly Tadark was clutching the hilt of his sword.
“I borrowed it,” Narian said, unsheathing the weapon and holding it out to me.
“From whom?” I persisted, grasping the sword rather clumsily as I had never before held one. “Koranis.”
“And does Koranis know that you borrowed his sword?”
Narian cocked his head and cast his eyes upward, as if picturing what his father might be doing at that exact moment.
“He may by now. So I suggest we not waste our time.” There was no remorse in his voice as he stepped around me to adjust the position of the sword in my hand.
Now that I was gripping the weapon correctly, he began to teach me some basic movements. I groaned in frustration as I struggled to follow his directions, for I made mistake after mistake. After a time, he permitted me to take a break, and I rested, perspiration dampening my forehead despite the coolness of the mid-September day.
“Why is this so easy for you?” I asked, then blushed at my own idiocy. A typical Hytanican boy of Narian’s age would have had sufficient military training to instruct me, if so inclined, in the same things Narian was endeavoring to teach.
Narian, unlike me, didn’t think my inquiry irrelevant. “I’ve been taught to handle a variety of weapons.”
“I suppose your training has been similar to that of our boys,” I said, thinking out loud. I waited for him to confirm my statement, then realized he would have little knowledge of the way we schooled our young men.
“Hytanican boys enter the Military Academy at fourteen, so you would be in your third year had you grown up here.”
He gave me an odd look, as though uncertain as to my interest, then seemed to perceive my curiosity as simply that—curiosity.
“By the time I was fourteen, I’d already been in training for eight years.”
I gave no response, hoping that none was necessary, as I was unable to formulate one. If he were telling the truth, he would have begun his training at age six. Six years old. I could not imagine what fighting skills one could teach a six-year-old, and the only clear thought I processed was that his answer explained why Cokyrians made such fearsome warriors.
“You were sent to military school when you were six?” I finally ventured. Our Military Academy housed its students during the training year, and I tried to imagine being separated from my family at such an age. “Not exactly.”
“Were you taught by your father then?”
I mentioned the only alternative a Hytanican boy would have had for learning such skills.
Narian gave a short and mirthless laugh. “Father is not a fitting name for the one who trained me.”
His words were vague, and I could tell he did not wish to discuss this further. Declaring my break at an end, he proceeded to demonstrate several defensive moves, and by the time my sister and I returned to the palace that evening, my arms were too sore to lift a cup of tea.
It was a week later when Miranna and I climbed into the buggy to begin another journey to Koranis’s estate. As we traversed the countryside, I could see villagers hard at work in the fields, bringing in the crops. I myself did little to assist with the preparations for winter, but all the same, their activities were a sign of the approaching faire and tournament that celebrated the end of the harvest—an event that was a source of excitement for me as well as everybody else.
As we arrived at Koranis’s home, I knew by the way Tadark’s jaw locked that he remained adamantly opposed to the idea of Narian instructing me in self-defense. I, on the other hand, was looking forward to Narian’s teaching, and had been practicing the movements he had shown me with the half-sword using the only tools available to me—a hairbrush and a fireplace poker. I again had my breeches with me, having debated wearing the trousers underneath my regular clothing, but ultimately deciding I did not want their roughness against my legs as we traveled. To simplify changing, however, I was wearing a basic skirt and blouse, and my hair hung down my back in a long plait so it would not draw Narian’s criticism.
After greeting Koranis and Alantonya, my sister and I, accompanied by Semari, Narian and our bodyguards, went off to enjoy the day. The weather was continuing to cool, and Alantonya had suggested that instead of visiting the river, we pick berries down at the forest’s edge. We took several willow baskets to fill as the fruit would be plentiful at this time of year.
To save ourselves having to haul the filled baskets back to the house, we concluded it would be wise to make use of the buggy. Halias handled the reins, to spare our poor driver the boredom of watching while we picked the fruit, and I sat in front with him. Miranna and Semari were in the seat behind with the baskets at their feet, and Tadark rode his own mount. Narian received permission to ride Halias’s sorrel gelding and was thus saved the effort of saddling one of his father’s horses, and with that the six of us were on our way.
The berry bushes were not far from the beginning of the path through the woods that we followed to reach the river, perhaps less than a quarter mile. The leaves on the trees and bushes were now transforming their colors, painting Koranis’s estate in gorgeous tones of deep gold, orange and russet. I had not thought the Baron’s land could be any more beautiful, but the mixed palette of the forest was breathtaking.
Upon reaching our destination, Halias tied the horses to the trunk of a tree and helped me down from the buggy, but before he could extend the same courtesy to Miranna or Semari, they had jumped to the ground, each carrying a basket, and had run toward the tree line.
I glanced under the backseat of the buggy where I had hidden the package containing my breeches prior to leaving
the city. As Narian had not attempted to speak with me, I did not know if he was in the mood to give instruction this day. Thinking he perhaps was not, I picked up a basket, intending to join the younger girls, but froze as I saw Halias approach the young man where he had dismounted.
“I am to check you for weapons,” he informed Narian. “Captain of the Guard’s orders.”
Without objection, Narian rolled up his left shirtsleeve, and extracted a dagger from a sheath strapped to the inside of his forearm.
“You will find no others,” he said as he handed it to Halias.
Halias gazed steadily into his eyes for a moment, then tucked the blade into a saddlebag and went to monitor the younger girls. Narian then approached me, and I fought the urge to ask if the weapon he had just surrendered to Halias had been “borrowed” from Koranis.
“Retrieve your package from under the seat and tell your guard to bring his horse,” he murmured in my ear as he brushed past.
I nodded, marveling at how observant he was, then retrieved the package and tucked it into my basket.
“Take your horse with you,” I said to Tadark, who was standing nearby.
At the inquisitive lift in his eyebrows, I shrugged, indicating I knew no more about the request for the horse than did he. He scowled, surmising that this had been Narian’s idea, then trudged over to his mount to untie it, startling the animal in the process.
Narian was standing a few yards from where Miranna and Semari were picking berries. Halias was between him and the girls, with his back to me. As I moseyed toward our sisters, not wanting to draw notice, Narian disappeared into the woods. I peered into the trees to see where he had gone and discerned a narrow trail that widened as it reached farther into the forest. With one final fleeting look at the people to my right, I entered the woods and began to follow the path. A few moments later, Tadark approached from the left, leading his horse, having ducked into the trees some distance away from the others so as not to attract attention. Ahead, down the trail, I could see Narian waiting for me.